


Cling to Me

by MooseFeels



Series: In the Garden of Your Love [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Garden!verse, Mild Angst, gardener!dean, teenage!castiel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 11:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooseFeels/pseuds/MooseFeels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cling to Me

Castiel is red faced and flushed when he approaches Dean. 

"You have a guest," he pants.

Dean stops- freezes in place and says, "Kinda goofy lookin' kid? Brown hair?"

"Sam," Castiel answers. 

Dean rattles off the codewords without thinking. "Tell him Wedge Antilles isn't retired yet," he says. "I have work I need to do right now." Much as it pains him to say it, he can't skip any kind of work right now. It's high summer and there's so much to do. If he were caught off the job right now, he could be in serious shit. 

"I'll take him to the cottage," Castiel says. He's fighting for his breath. 

"You okay?" Dean asks. 

Castiel nods, furiously. "Ran too fast," he explains, and Dean believes him, for now. He dashes off, bouncing run rabbit-like.

Dean does the rest of the day's work as fast as he can, and a good deal of what he was planning to do tomorrow, too. He puts his tools away directly at four and practically jogs to the cottage. 

The lights are warm and flicked on. The house is silent when he opens the door.

His little brother is stretched out on the couch, fast asleep. He is bigger but thinner than Dean remembers, but then again, he hasn't seen his brother in about eight months. Sam's curled up in a jacket, and a beat up suitcase rests near his feet. 

Dean rests his hand on Sam's shoulder, and his brother jerks awake, violently. He looks wild eyed around the room before he focuses on his brother and smiles, broadly, painfully, brightly.

"Hey, Dean," he says. His voice is sleep hoarse and rough.

"Heya, Sammy," Dean answers, and he pulls his little brother into a tight hug. 

He's not sure if he can bear to ask why Sam's here, instead of with Bobby. He just knows, with horrible certainty, that it's not good, whatever it is. 

"He found me," Sam whispers. "From Dallas, the guy. He showed up in Sioux Falls. So I found you." 

Dean hugs his little brother a little tighter. "It's okay," he soothes. "It's gonna be okay."

Sam nods into Dean's shoulder, and the. His stomach rumbles loudly. 

"Jesus, when was the last time you ate?" Dean asks sharply. 

Sam shrugs, non-commitally, which is the exact response Dean was fearing. It means Sam hasn't eaten in days. It means Sam has been on the road for too long. 

Dean gets up and walks to the fridge. "I got some leftovers," he calls, "but not much else." He pulls out the container and dumps the beef and broccoli in a bowl. Sticks it in the microwave for a few minutes while he pours a tall glass of milk. 

His brother scarfs the food down quickly. The action is distressingly wolfish and hungry. 

The sun goes down and the siren sing and scream of birds and cicadas begin. Dean turns the porchlight on in reflex. Castiel usually comes at about this time, his knock timid on the door.

"I met Castiel," Sam says in a fit of coincidence. "He seems nice."

Dean shrugs. Tries to stay as noncommittal as he can. 

He's not sure what his brother would say to his fairly recent revelations regarding his sexuality. That at first it was attraction cutting into his bones, the kind of feeling he's only ever felt the ghost of before. That it became something that nestled deeper into him. That it became something that weighed heavy inside of him the way a peach weighed ripe and precious on a branch. 

He knows that his father would sneer. Would dismiss it. Would write it off as some phase or minor rebellion to be grown out of. 

Nothing scares Dean like thinking that his brother might feel the same way, because what he has with Castiel is the most intensely he's ever felt about someone who isn't blood family. It's reflexive like breathing. It's as natural as a heartbeat. It's nothing he's felt with a woman. It's nothing he's felt with a man. It's Cas. It's only him. 

"He's alright," Dean answers. 

Sam smiles. "He thinks you're alright," he comments. "You're a gardener?"

"They didn't have any more positions for greasemonkeys, and the gig basically came with a research library," Dean answers. "So I figured, how hard could it be?"

Sam nods, licks a moustache of milk from his lip. "I saw a little of your work. The flowers looked very...happy."

Dean shrugs again. 

There's a knock on the door, and Dean answers it. 

Castiel stands at the threshold, beautiful and flushed and lovely. He's wearing a thin grey t-shirt and loose sweatpants. His hair is a mess. An azalea is tucked paper thin and wilting behind his ear. His feet are muddy and bare. 

Dean smiles in spite of himself, and says, "Heya, Cas. Come meet Sammy." 

Castiel nods and steps into the house. "I'm sorry about my feet " he murmurs. "I had to get out of the house." 

"Don't worry about it," Dean says. "Go ahead and sit down, I'll get a towel."

He moves delicate and deerlike from the doorway to the couch, but even then continues to stand. He smiles almost nervously. "I'm sorry our meeting before was so brief," he says to Sam. "I didn't want Dean to get into any kind of trouble."

Sam cocks his head to the side. "Trouble?" he asks.

Castiel looks at the floor, embarrassed. "Staff aren't supposed to have unannounced visitors " he clarifies. "Mother and Father can be quite draconian on that point."

"And what would you be?" Sam asks. 

The question is razor sharp. Defensive and protective. Possessive, almost.

Castiel's gaze communes with the floor. "I," he begins, "I just don't know. He makes me...he makes me feel." He bites and licks at his lip. Looks up. "He makes me feel and I can't let that go."

Sam looks between them- back and forth. He nods. "I'm glad," he says. He stands up. "Hey, Dean, where's your bathroom?"

And that's the extent of that conversation.


End file.
